653. Her Last Letter Sitting alone by the window,
Watching the moonlit street,
Bending my head to listen
654. Coleur De Rose I want more lives in which to love
This world so full of beauty,
I want more days to use the ways
655. Voice Of The Voiceless I am the Voice of the Voiceless
Through me the dumb shall speak
Till the world's deaf ear be made to hear
656. What I Have Seen #3 I saw two youths: both were fair in the face,
They had set out foot to foot in life's race;
But one said to the other, 'I say now, my brother,
657. Robin's Mistake What do you think Red Robin
Found by a mow of hay?
Why, a flask brimful of liquor,
658. Fame If I should die, to-day,
To-morrow, maybe, the world would see
Would waken from sleep, and say,
659. Time's Hymn Of Hate Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great,
How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate,
While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
660. Let Me Lean Hard Let me lean hard upon the Eternal Breast;
In all earth's devious ways, I sought for rest
And found it not. I will be strong, said I,
661. As By Fire Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning
For spiritual perfection here below,
662. Who Is A Christian? Who is a Christian in this Christian land
Of many churches and of lofty spires?
Not he who sits in soft upholstered pews
663. One Of Us Two The day will dawn when one of us shall hearken
In vain to hear a voice that has grown dumb.
And morns will fade, noons pale, and shadows darken,
664. Words From The Wind I called to the wind of the Winter,
As he sped like a steed on his way,
'Oh! rest for awhile on thy journey,
665. Meg's Curse The sun rode high in a cloudless sky
Of a perfect summer morn.
She stood and gazed out into the street,
666. The Question Beside us in our seeking after pleasures,
Through all our restless striving after fame,
Thorough all our search for worldly gains and treasures
667. Conversion When this world's pleasures for my soul sufficed,
Ere my heart's plummet sounded depths of pain,
I call on Reason to control my brain,
668. Love The longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of souls towards the heights above,
The stronger this truth comes home to me---
669. Rich And Poor By the castle-gate my lady stands,
Viewing broad acres and spreading lands.
670. Desolation I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain
Of love unrequited, or cold deathâ??s woe,
Is sweet, compared to that hour when we know
671. Over The Water Think of it, think of it over the water
Thousands of men to-day march on to death,
Think how the sun shines on fields red with slaughter-
677. Ad Finum On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion
678. Art And Heart Though critics may bow to art, and I am its own true lover,
It is not art, but heart, which wins the wide world over.
Though smooth be the heartless prayer, no ear in Heaven will mind it,
679. Camp Followers In the old wars of the world there were camp-followers,
Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,
Women of weak wills and strong desire.
680. New Year The New Year dawns again upon the earth,
And all our land re-echoes with its mirth.
From east to west, from north to south, we hear
681. Arise Why sit ye idly dreaming all the day,
While the golden, precious hours flit away?
See you not the day is waning, waning fast?
683. A Naughty Little Comet There was a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
684. Wanted--A Little Girl Where have they gone to-the little girls
With natural manners and natural curls;
Who love their dollies and like their toys,
685. The Spirit Of Great Joan Back of each soldier who fights for France,
Aye, back of each woman and man
Who toils and prays through these long tense days.
686. Answers What is the end of each man's toil,
Brother, O Brother?
A handful of dust in a bit of soil-
687. Spectres How terrible these nights are when alone
With our scarred hearts, we sit in solitude,
And some old sorrow, to the world unknown,
688. Two Roses A humble wild-rose, pink and slender,
Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet,
Beside a Jacqueminotâ??s royal splendour,
689. Were I Man Grown Were I man grown, I'd stand
With clean heart, soul, and hand,
An honor to this land.
690. The Yellow-Covered Almanac I left the farm when mother died and changed my place of dwelling
To daughter Susieâ??s stylish house right on the city street:
And there was them before I came that sort of scared me, telling
691. Ambition's Trail If all the end of this continuous striving
Were simply to attain,
How poor would seem the planning and contriving
692. Widows The world was widowed by the death of Christ:
Vainly its suffering soul for peace has sought
And found it not.
693. Isaura Dost thou not tire, Isaura, of this play?
'What play?' Why, this old play of winning hearts!
694. The King And The Siren The harsh King--Winter--sat upon the hills,
And reigned and ruled the earth right royally.
He locked the rivers, lakes, and all the rills--
695. Preparation We must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
696. Old Times Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times;
Of the long lost golden hours.
When "Winter" meant only Christmas chimes,
697. The Voice I dreamed a Voice, of one God-authorised,
Cried loudly throâ?? the world, â??Disarm! Disarm! â??
And there was consernation in the camps;
698. A Mother's Wail The sweet young Spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are singing in careless mirth,
699. How Is It? You who are loudly crying out for peace,
You who are wanting love to vanquish hate.
How is it in the four walls of your home
700. My Ships If all the ships I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
From sunny lands, and lands of cold,
Total 702 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Poem of the day
Laughing And Sneering by Henry Lawson
WHAT tho' the world does me ill turns
And cares my life environ;
I'd sooner laugh with Bobbie Burns
Than sneer with titl'd Byron.
The smile has always been the best;
'Tis stronger than the frown, sirs:
And Venus smiled the waves to rest;
... Read complete poem